Our Gift to You - R2Q · Of course, Father had been quite old and his health had been failing for years, but Alice had never really prepared herself for the reality of his actual

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Tales from Grace Chapel Inn

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ThinraysofafternoonsunlightfilteredthroughtheleavesoftheoldmapletreethatdominatedthefrontyardoftheHowardfamilyhome.UnshedtearsblurredAliceHoward’svisionasshesquintedupatthetree’smajesticcanopy.Howwasitpossiblethatmorethanfiftyyearshadpassedsinceherfatherhaddugagallon-sizedholeandplantedthatspindlytwig?Yetsherememberedthatdayasifitwereyesterday.Fatherhadplantedthetreefortworeasons:first,tocelebratethebirthofhisthirddaughterJane,andsecond,tohonorthememoryofhisbelovedwifeMadeleine.Asaresult,thetreehadalwaysevokedmixedfeelingsinAlice.Shehaddearlylovedherlittlesister,butlikeanynormaltwelve-year-oldgirl,shehadalsomournedthelossofhermother.

AndnowFatherwasgoneaswell.Forthefirsttime,therealityofthislosspenetratedherheartlikeawell-aimedsword,andhertearsbegantofallfreely.Ithadbeensuchashocktoreceivethatphonecalltodayatwork.Herfatherhadseemedperfectlyfineearlierthismorning.FredHumbertwastheonetocall.Heexplainedhowhe’dlefthishardwarestoretotakealookattheleakykitchenfaucetthatherfatherhadtoldhimaboutyesterday.Hehadknockedseveraltimesbeforehelethimselfin.

“Ifoundhimsittinginhischairinthestudy,Alice,justlikehe’dpeacefullygonetosleep.ButwhenItappedhimontheshoulder,Iknewsomethingwaswrong.Iguesshe’dhadaheartattack.Icouldtellhewasgone.Probablyhadbeenforacoupleofhours.Iknewitwasnousetocalltheparamedics,soIdecidedtocallyou.Ifiguredyou’dknowwhattodo.”

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Alicehadspedhomeandhadspenttherestofthedaydealingwiththings.Nowthatthearrangementshadbeenmadeandhertwosistershadbeennotified,thereseemedtobelittlelefttodo,otherthantowait.

Itwasthewaitingthatundidher.AllshecouldthinkofwasFatherandallthelittlethingsshewouldmissabouthim,likehissunnysmile,andthewayhelikedtosneaktablescrapstoWendell,thencomplainthatthecatwasgettingtoochubby.She’dmisshisreadingaloudtoherfromthelocalweeklynewspaperandthewayheaddedhisowneditorialcommentsthatneverfailedtomakeherchuckle.No,lifewouldneverbethesameagain.

Ofcourse,Fatherhadbeenquiteoldandhishealthhadbeenfailingforyears,butAlicehadneverreallypreparedherselffortherealityofhisactualabsence.Perhapsshe’dbeenindenial.Therewasnodenyingitnow.Hewasgone,andtherewasabigholeinherlife.ShesatdownonthecreakyfrontporchswingnexttoWendell.Withadeepsigh,sheranherhandoverhiswarm,grayandblackfurandwonderedwhatwasgoingoninthatfelinebrainrightnow.Didheknowwhathadhappenedthismorning?Ofcourse,hemust.Afterall,FatherhadalwaysclaimedthatWendellwas“insightfulforacatanyway.”Shescratchedhisfavoritespot,onthetopofhisheadrightbetweenhisears,andcontinuedtowait.Oh,ifonlyLouiseandJanewouldgethere.

“Alice!”calledashrillvoicefrombehindher.“AliceChristine,whereareyou?”

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Aliceglancedtowardthewestsideofthehouseintimetospyaflashofvividredhairjustpassingthroughtheovergrownrosetrellis.Sherecognizedtheshadeas“TitianDreams”—thecolorthatAuntEthel’shairdresserappliedtoherrootseveryfourweeks.AliceknewshemightbeabletoavoidAuntEthelifshehurriedintothehouse,butwhatwouldbetheuse?Herauntwouldeventuallycatchupwithheranyway.For,despiteAuntEthel’sage,whichAlicesuspectedwasmid-seventiesalthoughAuntEthelkeptthissecret,shewasasharpoldwoman,bothinwitandintongue.Andduringthetenyearsshe’dlivedinthecarriagehousenextdoor,she’dbecomeoneofAlice’sgreatestchallengesinlife.

IthadbeenFather’ssuggestiontorelocateAuntEthelnearby.He’dbeenconcernedabouthisyoungersistergrowingoldalone,andatthetimeitsoundedlikeagoodideatoAlicetoo.She’denvisionedthethreeofthembecomingasortoffamily.Andindeedtheyhadintheirownway.

“I’montheporch,”Alicecalled.

“Oh,Alice!Whatareyoudoingjustsittingaroundatatimelikethis?Landsakes,theremustbeahundredthingstodorightnow.”

“Yes.”Alicesaidwithatiredsmile.“AndI’vebeendoingthem.”

“ButIwasjustchattingwithCarleneMossdownatthenewspaper,andshesaidthatyouhadn’tnotifiedthemofDaniel’s

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demiseyet.Naturally,they’llwanttodoafront-pagestoryaboutDaniel’slifeofservicehereinAcornHill—probablyneedagoodphotographtoo.IthinkImayhaveonethatwillwork.Goodnessknowsthatmangavehislifetohiscongregation.Formorethansixdecadestoo!Andwhataboutthememorialservice,Alice,haveyoudecidedwhatto—”

“IthoughtI’dleavesomedecisionsuntilJaneandLouisearrive.”

“Andwhenmightthatbe?”AuntEthelpeereddownatherwatchasifshewerethestationmasterwaitingforadelayedtrain.

Aliceshrugged.“I’mnotsure,butI’mguessingLouisemightarrivelaterthisafternoonandJanebytomorrowevening.”

“Well,Iguessit’sallrightforyoutositaroundalldaylongifyoulike,butIhaveplacestogo,peopletosee.”

Alicestoodup,leaningovertheporchrailingshepeeredintoheraunt’spaleblueeyes.“Butdon’tyoumisshim,Auntie?”

Forabriefmoment,AuntEthel’sveneerofbusynessandefficiencyseemedtocrackslightly,andsheevensniffed.“Well,ofcourse,Imisshim,dear.Hewasmyonlylivingbrother,andIexpectedhimtogoonforever.”Shenowpulledalace-trimmedhankyfromthebodiceofherfloraldressanddaubedhernose.“Ijustdon’thavetimetodwellonitrightnow.”

Alicepartiallyunderstoodheraunt’sphilosophy.Sometimesitwaseasiertokeepyourselfbusyanddistracted,to

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holdyouremotionsatbay.Butmaybeitwasn’talwaysthebestroute—atleastnotinthelongrun.

“Whataboutthisoldhouse?”demandedtheaunt,changingthesubjectasonlyshecoulddo.“Didn’tyourfatherleavethisplacetothechurch?Doesthatmeanyou’llbemovingoutsoon?”

Aliceslowlyshookherhead.“ActuallyFatherleftittous—toJaneandLouiseandme.”

AuntEthelfrownedasifthiswerethesilliestplanimaginable.“Whatonearthwillthethreeofyoudowiththishouse?Goodgracious,it’sfallingdownaroundyourears.”

“Idon’tknowwhatwe’lldowithit,butFatherhadbeengoingonaboutthisideaquitealotrecently.Herecalledwhenwethreegirlsweregrowinguphere.Hekeptremindingmeofallthegoodtimeswe’dsharedinthishouse.Ithinkhehopedthatgivingittouswouldsomehowhelptobringusbacktogetheragain.”

AuntEthellaughed,buttherewasadistinctnoteofsarcasminit.“Well,nowwouldn’tthatbesomething.I’lltellyouwhat,Alice,I’venever,notinallmyborndays,everknownflesh-and-bloodsistersanylessalikethanyouthree.”

Aliceknewherauntwasmostlyright,butthetactlesscommentstillirkedher.Yet,shekeptherreactiontoherself.

“Well,youthreewouldbewisetoselloffthisrundownoldplacequicklybeforetheplacedeterioratesevenmore.Tsk-tsk.Justlookatthatpeelingpaint.”

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AlicestrokedWendell’scoatmorefirmlythanbefore.Thecatreactedbyhoppingdownandsashayingacrosstheporch.

“Oh,there’sLloyd,”saidAuntEthelsuddenly.Shewavedacrossthestreet,andthencalledoutachirpy“Yoo-hoo!”

LloydTynanhadonhislightblueseersuckersuittoday,withadarkerblueshirtandacrispwhitebowtie.Hesmiledbroadlyandwavedback.AsmayorofAcornHill,nottomentionAuntEthel’smostrecentbeau,itwaslikelyhehadalreadyheardthesadnews.And,ifnot,he’dcertainlyhearaboutitnow.

“Willyouexcuseme,dear?”AuntEthelgaveherflamboyantcoiffureaquicklittlepat.“IneedtogospeaktoLloydaboutsomethingI’dlikehimtosayatyourfather’sservice.”

“Notatall.”Alicefeltawaveofreliefpassoverher.ThankgoodnessforLloyd.Ifhehadn’tshownupwhenhedid,shemight’vebeensubjectedtoanotheroneofAuntEthel’slittlelecturesonwhyAliceshouldgetherselfmarried,particularlynowthatherfatherwasgone.Thiswasoneofheraunt’sfavoritetopicsandcouldalwaysbecountedonattimesofweddings,births,showers,holidays,orfunerals.Alice’sageofsixty-twodidnothingtodeterheraunteither.EveryoneintownknewthatAuntEthelfirmlybelievedthatromancewasn’tlimitedtotheyoung.

Justthesame,Alicefeltcertainshedidn’thaveitinhertoabidethatparticularspeech.Nottodayanyway.Longago,Alicehadresignedherselftohersinglelifestyle.Sheenjoyednursingandcaringforothers,andshedevotedherselftoheryouthgroupandreallylovedthosegirlsasiftheywereherown.Whatdidit

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matteriftheywereyoungenoughtobehergrandchildrennow?

FatherhadalwaysprovidedagoodbufferforAuntEthel’sthoughtlessinterference,lovinglyremindingAlicehowusefulandhelpfulshewastosomany.Heenjoyedreplayingtheoccasionalstoryhe’dhearatthecoffeeshop,exaggeratingshewascertain,aboutthevariouspatientswhowere“touchedbyAlice’sselflesskindnesses”duringtheirhospitalstays—asifsheweresomekindofFlorenceNightingale.Fatherwouldreinforcetohertheimportanceofherworkwiththeyounggirlsinthechurch.Ithadallhelpedtobalancethingsout.Butnowthathewasgone,AuntEthelhadtheupperhand.

Shewalkeddowntheporchsteps,treadinggentlyontheboardthatwasloose,asshepeereddownthequietstreettowardtown.Thepavementshimmeredlikewavyglassinthehotafternoonsun.Wouldthissummerneverend?ItwasSeptemberalready,andyetjustashotasmid-July.ShesteppedontothesidewalkandlookedtowardHillStreet,longingtoseeLouise’scarturningthecorneratthefour-waystopbeforeitslowlyproceededthisway.ButChapelRoadremainedjustasquietandemptyastheoldVictorianhousebehindher.